Rest for the Weary
by guildedParadox
Summary: Dean has the flu, and Cas wants the boys to rest. Set in Season 5.


**A tiny Supernatural ficlet. Because I felt like it. Set in Season five.**

Dean twisted in the scratchy motel sheets, desperately trying to cool himself down. If Sam found out he was sick, he'd never hear the end of it; not to mention, he'd be banned from hunting for the foreseeable future. Neither were very pleasing prospects.

Flipping the pillow for what had to be the 16th time in half as many minutes, Dean fought the urge to run the shower cold on himself. If he did, it'd give it away to Sammy. He couldn't have Sam worried about _him_ , not when there were more pressing matters, like Lucifer walking the Earth and their recent encounter with the Trickster-an archangel, apparently. And even if Gabriel _said_ he was neutral, they could try-they needed all the help they could get…

Dean sucked in a sharp breath. "Fuck," he muttered, trying to keep his voice down. He was not as young as he used to be, and the fever cramps were taking their toll. It was likely that he wouldn't be able to walk the next day, at this rate. "Why, fucking, why…" _Of all the times to get the flu,_ Dean thought, _it had to be when we're tracking the fucking devil himself._

Suddenly, he felt as if he were being watched.

Turning around as fast as his aching limbs let him, he was shocked to see Cas, with an actual expression on his face. One of concern. "Dean." He said in that gravelly voice. "You are in distress."

Dean relaxed, seeing how it wasn't an enemy. "No shit, Sherlock." For a moment, Cas looked as if he wanted to ask who Sherlock was, but then thought better of it. Dean continued, "I think I have the fucking flu." Without further prompt, Cas reached his hand to Dean's forehead and then took it off, faster than Dean could protest. "What the hell?" He hadn't had his temperature checked like that since he was a kid.

Before Dean had a chance to say anything else, Cas stated, "You have a fever of 103.2, nearly five degrees above the human normal. You should tell Sam."

Dean's head whipped up. "No! No way, man. I am not telling Sammy, and neither are you!"

Cas narrowed his eyes. "You are unwell, Dean. You need to inform someone."

"You are 'informed', Cas! That's enough!"

"Why are you so opposed to telling your brother, Dean. I have observed that both you and your brother care a great deal for each other. Sam would not view this as your fault."

"I know! But he wouldn't let me hunt if I told him! And the Devil is my responsibility; I broke the first seal, so I need to be the one to shove him back in the pit, flu or not."

"Dean." Cas sat down, and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. "This is not your fault. And Sam would be right. You are in no state to hunt."

Shrugging Cas's hand off, Dean grumbled, "Then why don't you just patch me up with your angel mojo?"

Cas caught Dean's eyes, and fixed him with a slightly disapproving stare. "Both you and Sam have been working constantly on finding the Morningstar. You need to rest. And if I heal you, you will just start again. You have only gotten sick because your immune system cannot deal with your stress and lack of sleep. Sam, as healthy as he is, will become ill as well if you do not take a break."

Stomach lurching at the thought of his little brother getting sick, Dean was slow to answer, "...so...would you heal me if I promised that me and Sammy would take a few days off?" Dean side-eyed the angel. "And not any more than a few days, Cas. We need to catch this son of a bitch."

Cas sighed nearly imperceivably. He realized that this was probably the best offer he would get from the determined Hunter. "Fine. But I will hold you to that." With no other words, Castiel touched Dean's forehead, simultaneously healing him and sending him into a deep sleep. He watched Dean's slow breaths for a moment, then took off, heading to Bali to continue his search for God.

~The Next Morning~

"Where next, Dean?" Sam asked. Now that Dean was paying attention, he could see the dark bags under his brother's eyes; the way his hands shook. Cas was right. They needed a break.

"I thought we'd park ourselves here for a while, Sammy. Gabriel may show up again, not to mention, this town has this diner that serves some truly _amazing_ cherry pie…" Dean grinned. "And, honestly, I think we need to slow down. We'd be no match for Lucifer as we are now." Dean arched his eyebrow, ready to be questioned.

To his surprise, Sam sighed in resignation. "Yeah. Yeah. Okay. But after that, I think we may have a lead…"

As Sam prattled on about some strange omens he'd read about, Dean leaned against the window. He would go to the diner later, maybe pick someone up...

Maybe it was a good thing he got sick, after all.

 **Hope you all liked!**


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